As long as you’ll be my friend at the end
by Snowingroses
Summary: A prefect take down, opens the door for a disaster strike. First Stephanie is murdered and then Ranger follows her in death. Morelli looses it. But what’s really going on?
1. Chapter 1

Don't own the characters so I can happily write with them darkly and kill and maim... Ok main is to the extreme...

Its midmorning the sun is shining but its raining. Yup, it's actually raining, and there isn't a storm cloud in the sky. So what can I say, my day is prefect. The take down went smoothly. It was absolutely freaking flawless. Ok so I only have a little mud on me. I think it started out as dust from that creepy old house. Oh well, right?

So now I am letting myself enjoy the day. Ranger's standing on the sidewalk under the canopy. Me, well I am playing in the rain and goading him to join me.

"Oh, come on it's perfectly acceptably to get wet." I said twirling around. My naturally curly hair had absorbed all the tender pelting drops of rain it was going to. So it now hung about framing my face, shielding my eyes from Rangers.

"Babe." Ranger said.

I was almost sure he was laughing at me or… I decided to attempt to view his focal point. I flipped enough hair back to let my eyes slide downward. Damn headlights. Ok it was time to quit playing with Ranger. Everyone knew Ranger didn't play at least not like this.

"I could." He offered as I stepped under canopy. And then his thumbs flicked over my disobedient breasts. I half assed swatted his large firm and very warm hands away.

His lips moved against my neck and shirt collar. Oh ye gods… It may have been summer but there was a cool breeze after all and well I was chilly until he got those hot hands and lips on me. Oh yeah I was heating up quit nicely thank you very much.

"Babe. We could take this else where."

I wanted to push away problem was my body didn't want to. Damn talk bout a mind of its own. I guess that's what I get when I don't get any… Yeah, Joe and I had a spat, so I'm back in my apartment again and well you know the rest of my dilemma.

"So." I began taking a shaky step back from Ranger. I was kind of hoping to have transposed a little mud to him. No such luck the man was spot proof.

"Those guys we took down."

His eyes narrowed to slits his grip tightened on my upper arms. I gasped a little shocked at the pressure. He instantly dropped his hands to his side, his face an unreadable mask.

He flicked a pair of sunglasses open and slid them on. "Babe." He waited a beat. "Those were some very dangerous people."

Damn him he had already pulled me back to him, his hands sliding down into my back pockets. I had my arms half assed draped around his neck. God what was I thinking. It's like feeding a stray cat. Shit it'll own you before you know it.

Oh man his breath was warm on my ear as he leaned down to whisper into it. What can I say I was all into the moment.

His head jerked up and every muscle tensed tight. I only caught the fleeting reflection of something black float across the lens of his shades.

"It's time to go." His voice was all commanding. His arms were about me again but this time he was guiding me. He had me nearly pinned against the wall, as we walked away.

* * *

It was late into the evening but still not quite dark. The roads were still rain slicked with the all day on and off drizzle. The large King Crew lacquer black Ford truck came careening around the curves. There was a flash as something flicked across the path of the on coming truck.

It went into a slide, tires roaring and screeching alike looking for purchase. The tail end whipped around, the front end snatched back pulling it back into another spin, going into a completely different direction.

There was the truck slipping sliding spinning out of control. It played over again and again.

The wreck played out all in slow deliberate motion. First a howling spin flowing clockwise and then just as suddenly the truck spun back in a counter clock wise position. Just when the truck appeared to be coming back under control of its driver, an explosion lifted the vehicle up off the ground engulfing both of the dual back tires and slamming it into a tree. The fuel tanks ruptured spewing gallon after gallon of gas on the all too eager fire.

There was another explosion as the windows exploded outward in not only the fully engulfed pick up but also the few local cars on the street.

Someone's mournful car alarm still wailed. Even as the EMT's worked on Ricardo Carlos Manoso, aka Ranger. They were just lifting him up into the ambulance as Joe Morelli's dark blue suv slid to a catty cornered stop, behind at least twelve of Rangeman vehicles.

"Where is he the fucking bastard?" Morelli was roaring with anger. "I'll kill him, damn him."

Tank pressed a hand against Morelli's shoulder but didn't other wise try to stop him.

"Man its, bad." Tank tried to tell Morelli.

"You have no fucking idea exactly how bad it is. He just as good as killed her. That sonavubitch." Morelli was screaming.

"Man, it's just about killed him too." Tank offered. Glimmers of tears sparkled in his otherwise dark eyes.

Morelli's glare shot all around looking from one Rangeman to the other. They all wore the same devastated look. Fuck 'em all Morelli thought as he pushed forward towards the ambulance where they were working on Ranger.

Suddenly he was beside Ranger. The mental flames of hatred licked up in Morelli. He wanted to for just a split second slam a needle full of air straight into Rangers heart push the plunger down and kill the bastard, then and there.

Ranger's lips were dried and cracked. Blood leaked out from his body, from the corner of his mouth, at a place just above his belt line in his abdomen.

Morelli watched his lips move, but no words seem to come out or if they did the mask over his face gobbled them up.

But Morelli knew what he was saying. _I'll find her killer._

"We're losing him." One of the medics said as a new buzz joined that lone car alarm.

Morelli watched the ass end of the ambulance swerved away, the tail lights were like smears of blood waving goodbye.

Cop lights bathed everything in eerily blues and ghoulish reds. Pools of foam seem too slide from Rangers burnt out hull of a truck and attach themselves to Morelli's feet.

Morelli's temper was building again. Several of the police spoke to Morelli as one by one they each began pulling away giving to him their condolences at the death of Stephanie Plum. He nodded his head not really listening. He'd already seen most of them earlier when her still smoldering body had been found.

He'd went numb, hell he went off the deep end. And then he'd went to her apartment only to run into Ranger there, he suppose now what really set him off was when he was about to feed _HER _hamster.

"Fuck it-" he shouted out loud. His arms flailing around he was swearing, he kicked the remainder of alloy rim of Rangers truck. To fucking bad the truck wasn't a diesel model, least it wouldn't have blown up even if the bastard did wrap the truck around the tree.

"That fucking bastard even in death that sonvabitch will be with her. I swear Ranger, you fucking asshole. If you weren't already busted up I'd kill your damn fucking ass. She was mine. Do you here me?"

He broke down with hot fiery tears raining over his cheeks. He needed to vent, he wanted to pound Ranger, no he wanted to shoot him, but Ranger was in pretty bad shape so what the hell. He'd just take it out on Rangers truck.

His fist slammed again and again into the charred remains of the truck, not once or twice but over and over again until Tank and his men pulled him away and took him to the hospital.

* * *

Thirty minutes later blood still dripped from bandaged knuckles as Tank strolled in. His head dropped. Morelli nodded he looked like a defeated man. Maybe Stephanie did mean something to them after all. Maybe she was an attachment to them too. She was certainly what linked Ranger to him. He like the guy ok, he just did…… well hell Stephanie was his first and most of the time Ranger acknowledged it.

Tank looked down at his shoes even with every step he took, even when he stood there in front of Morelli.

Tank cleared smoke choked throat. "Man, we're really sorry 'bout your babe. If there is anything we can do…"

Morelli wanted to demand he bring her back, make it all ok. Make it prefect like it was this morning when she called him up telling him about Ranger's and her big bust. They had even made plans to get back together well at least for a lunch date. With any luck…

Shit he had to get the reins on his feelings.

"He's gone!" Tank spoke with a sigh. And then he stalked out.

Son of a fucking bitch. Morelli wanted to shout. The damn bastard would get to be with here even in death.

He threw himself back against the exam table.

"I might as well die too."


	2. Chapter 2

The usual disclaimers apply. Not mine so I can kill and maim without fear.. Ok maybe just kill and ahm torement. Maiming after all is so unappealing. This is written in Morelli's voice. And yeah the lyrics are well Three Doors Down _Kryptonite _Ok so its not all them. _Smirks _I'm still not in the mood to give anything away. Well maybe the fact I need to really go villian shopping. Anywho enjoy read / review/ reply…..

_BluJayAngel_

* * *

**_lyrics_**

_Well I took a walk around the world  
To ease my troubled mind.  
I left my body lying somewhere  
In the sands of time.  
But I watched the world float  
To the dark side of the moon._

_I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah_

_"Shit."_ I snapped the damn radio off. I really didn't want to hear that damn Three Doors Down song. Kryptonite, or whatever the crap it was. Hell for that matter I didn't want to hear any of that music on _that_ burnt cd. Besides up next would have been when I'm gone or Loser or hell something I just really couldn't deal with right now…

I slid my eyes in the direction of where Ranger wrecked last night. "What the hell." I snapped the radio back on. Maybe this was all just part of my punishment. After all wasn't that damn song playing last night when I wheeled up? Or was it in Steph's, apartment.

I got out; I walked around the edges of chalked off scene. I closed my eyes I could still smell the burning, and if I closed my eyes just a little tighter I could feel the heat and….

Sonofbitch. A slow moving tinted to hell, gloss black Shelley Cobra Mustang just breezed by me.

I glared at the plates. Vanity.. It screamed arrogance. Something _Ranger _would certainly do.

Even at a slow idle, the car growled and pulsed power. It was slowly rolling away from me, luring me, baiting me to pursue it. I glanced at my pitiful SUV. There wasn't enough horses under the hood of that thing to catch the Mustang's dust little lone the car, if they didn't want to be caught.

The driver must have patted the brakes, the tail lights winked at me, and the slow roll almost came to a stop. Annoyed I slapped my hands on my hips, and tried to ignore the pain that pulsed through my knuckles. It was no good.

I threw my hands into the air, deciding to get in my SUV, might as well follow it see where this ride led me.

Eerily my reflection replied back to me with the same sort of Italian gesture. Up until then I hadn't realized the cars glossy paint was like looking at a black mirror. That made my hackles rise and that damn gold Cobra insignia- _now that screamed ominous_.

I angled myself behind the wheel, snapped the door shut and jammed my key into the switch. A twinge of guilt washed over me as that darn song started up again.

_I watched the world float  
to the dark side of the moon.  
After all I knew it had to be  
something to do with you.  
I really don't mind what happens now and then  
As long as you'll be my friend at the end._

Eew gads, I hesitated, what if that car was- the here and now reflection of the dark side of the moon? The moon after all does nothing but reflect the sun. It doesn't actually shine.

I leaned my head against the steering wheel. I had to think…….


	3. Chapter 3

thanks for the R/R. This one maybe a little testy to read. I like to think I have actually given a little something in this one.

And for those who are curious enough to wonder what a taphophile is well literally lover of tombstones. I prefer to view it as a person who has appreciation for tomb stones, in a artsy sort of sense.

enjoy

* * *

Thin sheets of rain silently fell from the heavens soaking into and absorbing everything and everyone. Only the smallest of narrow rays seem to penetrate the otherwise heavy black skies. Even the sun was apparently in mourning with the rest of the Berg. A dull gossamer fog, hovered between the grave stones, connecting the site on a small knoll to the one settled in a slight basin one hundred yards away.

Friends huddled under the memorial tent covering the red velveteen chairs that held her family. Her father, his tongue held silent still locked in disbelief that Stephanie his oldest daughter was gone. Her mother self sedated kept a firm clutching grasp on her purse and hip flask. Stephanie's sister Valerie sat clutching her three children her husband Albert milled behind her.

Grandma Mazur stood stoic both hands on the casket. Surprisingly she hadn't yet tried to jimmy it open. Her black patent leather handbag dangled heavily from her elbow. Was this a testament that the old woman had lost her edge as a taphophile? Then again maybe she had never been a taphophile but she always loved a good viewing, and what was a viewing without actually seeing the body right? Bets had sprung up on occasion that she kept the local drug store in business with her nail file purchases alone. The woman was damn scary if only two words were required to sum her up.

Off up the slope, Joe Morelli stood alone, no umbrella no rain coat. Rain dripped from the tip of his nose, from off the edges of his hair, from his hands dangling lost at his side. He clutched single white rose, tightly in his left hand. Gravity pulled at the tear drops of blood squeezed away from his palm. He probably didn't even feel it. Suddenly the last few days he didn't feel anything. Suffering and pain became numb void black emptiness.

In the distance a top the knoll, standing feet shoulder width apart a squad of stoic sentries, dressed in the Rangeman black fatigues, fully armed. Even now they were loyal, guarding Stephanie Plum even in death. Standing witness and as guards to the burial. If there were ten on the hill there had to be others, in the surroundings offering unseen protection.

The words were read, condolences were spoken, and sympathy offered all while slowly the casket was lowered into the cold dreary steel vault waiting in the base of the grave, its purpose to gobble up and devour the dead to protect them from the natural course of nature.

Suddenly the finality hit. She was really gone.. She wasn't going to spring up, swatting back smoke with smut covered cheeks. Morelli let his chin dip down against his chest. His empty hand compressed into a fist then release the process repeated again and again.

Glares of light were cast about the cemetery as car doors opened and closed. Vehicles pulled away as their drivers head back to their normalcy. Morelli watched as the Plum Family was loaded into a stretch Hum-vee, his empty hand still catching into a fist and releasing. He turned on heel, still trying to decide whether to go to the second funeral or just go home.

--

* * *

In the end honor had won out and Morelli found himself standing before Tank. Behind him two very straight narrow lines had formed.

Morelli nodded to Tank, he returned the nod. Morelli wondered why Vince, Lula or least Connie hadn't come to bare witness to Rangers burial but he didn't mention it. Even stranger why wasn't this a military burial. Ranger was Special Forces. They took care of their own. Even in death.

Tank must have read his mind. "It's personal."

Morelli felt an imaginary knife twist in his gut. He glanced away. _Indeed it was personal_.

It was a slow silent possession as the mirrored black lacquer casket passed from one set of hands to another. On and on it neared its final destination. Morelli watched standing on the left hand side of Tank who took up the position of the proverbial right hand man.

Rangers casket slid across opened palms, silence maintained. From Bobby to Lester to Hal, and so forth, each man maintaining a perfectly steady balance. The casket glided into Morelli's hands. He caressed the corner then the full casket, it was frigid and heavy suddenly he really missed Ranger.

"You ready?" Tank ask.

Morelli nodded taking in the full array of what Ranger's burial would entail. Together with Hal and Lester, Ranger's lacquered wooden box was slid up onto the funeral pyre.

Tank took two lit torches, tossing one to Morelli. "It has to be this way. Lit a corner, pass it off to next in line."

There were no flowers; no flag to drape over the coffin, no twenty one gun statute, no fly by, no publicly shed tears, no family members, only silent mourning for Rangeman himself by his friends. Hours later Morelli realized night had fallen and only smothering ashes remained as testament that there had been a funeral at all. During that time few words had been spoken.

In the distance a couple acres away, on another knoll the mysterious Shelley Cobra growled to life. Tinted windows slid up concealing the lone occupant. There was nothing left to witness. They'd burned the body so there would be no digging him up to verify Ricardo Carlos Manoso aka Ranger was indeed dead. No need really, after all the morgue confirmed the kill. Finally he was really gone.

Ranger truly was in the wind.


	4. Chapter 4

The usually disclaimers. I don't own said characters so I can freely kill and I would say maim.. But maiming is so messy.

Done in different voice or POV

Warning this starts out a little dark. I did not hold my shooter character back. He isn't a nice guy and I did not try to make him a said nice guy out of him. Fact is he slightly scares me..

I would also like to point out, with tension running high, these guys got potty mouthed.

And the last thing on the list, yeah the shooter talks kind of funny. Pouf?? Okay

Like to hear from you. I accept reviews..

* * *

_**Shooter's voice**_

The night is still with silence there are no crickets warbling or feathered hunters of the night crooning to unsuspecting victims. This will make my job a little bit harder, but I love a challenge. A deviant smile slips across my lips. And now its time a few more die.

Stephanie was easy, she squirmed a little, hmmp she squeaked like a mouse. She was whining.. She wanted me, she wanted more of me. She couldn't get enough, she'd crawled then back peddle trying to stand. Now how's that for a woman to want you? But in the end I had to burn her. She sobbed. Shit she'd said _"Please."_ She was begging for me.

But that's okay, Morelli. Hmm, he ain't my type. Fucking pig… Yeap, he's a pig. Got cop written all over him. Right now he's fucked up, lost his woman, and supposedly a friend. Sorry, I can't help chuckle I think its funny.

I let my thoughts shift to Ranger shit I can't believe it, they burnt his ass. Man they literally burnt his ass. Imagine that. I could did better job burning that bagged bastard. I burnt her didn't I? I did a fine job. Burnt her face right off with the torch, then I burnt her hands. I really like burning her hands, they'd touched me after all and I had to burn her hands. It just wasn't right for them hands to ever touch another man. Right- Mmm she was sooo good. Way she handled me.

_**Tank Voice**_

My head snapped up. Something was wrong; fire brings out the night life. Owls investigate, amongst other four footed creatures that lurk in the night. Even now the crickets and bats lay silent.

I scanned the horizon. My men were still firmly dug in, concealed from the unsuspecting Morelli and anyone who might accidentally wonder into this private funeral. Something wasn't right I could feel it in my bones. We were being watched.

I inhaled deeply swallowing the chilling night air with the hopes of smelling someone's mistake. Nothing- all I could smell was the smoldering ashes of cedar. There were no colognes or cigarette scent in the air.

I didn't like it, we were to damn open. The only thing even remotely near cover was a few ancient gnarled trees, nothing that would slow a fast moving high velocity bullet. Shit hollow points would be a bitch out here.

I let my gaze slide around the surroundings one last time before I made my way to Ranger's Bronco; it was time to crack out the thermal imaging camera. I had to be sure, we weren't being targeted.

_**Morelli's Voice**_

From somewhere out of the night a cool breeze sprung up and rippled across my shoulder hauling me out of my bleary eyed stupor. I smiled; it almost felt like fingers, playing along my collar bone and shoulder.

Shit! Then I heard the report and realized it wasn't a breeze but a shot from a snipers rifle. Damn it to hell the second fucking shot knocked me back flat on my ass. I heard Tank's voice he was barking orders. Someone was beside me, sliding a Sig-Sauer 9 mil, in my hand. He was pulling me back

My eyes cut around trying hard to see in the moonless night. Fuck this was just great, exactly how I wanted to go in a damn ambush. Another shot rattled off the armored SUV. Damn to freaking hell, bastards were going to get us one way or another. There were a couple of shots from our side. I think the guy beside me fired off a shot or two.

Things lit up to a glow and then exploded, into a mass fire ball. I can only assume it was the bronco, as my line of vision faded.

_**Shooter's Voice**_

I heaved up my PSG-1 sniper rifle, flipping the bipod open, I smirked its 17 pounds of fucking badass accuracy. I checked my scope letting it float about the smoldering coals. Hmm yum gives me a hard on just thinking about popping some people. I'm damn good with a gun.

Hmm, Rangers' second would make a good target. But… And I say but, just in case. Wind shift or my dots spotted, I doubt I would get a second chance to pop him. I swivel the gun slightly to the right, there is nothing worth shooting. Bunch fucking slugs, hmmp look at 'em without Ranger to lead them. Bunch sorry asses, how'd the fuck they make it through service.

And then to the left that little pencil dick, gang freak. Look at him.

Oh, hello… Morelli 11 o'clock, shit I am dying to squeeze the trigger, just yank it, hear the gun cough, watch the little pouf of smoke slide out the end of the barrel. See Morelli as the report sounds and he crumbles to the ground, his brains sliding out of what's left of his skull.

I pressed my hand to my face, as I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. Control it, I gotta control it. I reposition taking aim again. This time I know I have to wait for it, and then when it comes I have to gently squeeze the trigger.

Come on Morelli turn, come on just a little more. I open the bolt, ah near silence as I slide it back shut. And then he turned. I shot wild the first time. Shit, I will blame that on that fucking Tank. He spotted the dot, yeah that it. He was yelling and I had to take the second shot. Bang I got that fucker. Pig…. Next shot, the bastard going for him.. No wait, I pulled up before I squeezed the shot off, the vehicles are prefect targets.

This is what I love. I live to shoot shit up, especially people. Ooooh maaan this was more fun than whacking off in the showers.

Know blowing things up is almost as good as killing people. I took aim, paying no heed to the few wild shots made at me. Beading the Bronco I the squeezed the trigger, impact yes the truck ignited. So I was surprised when something whined past my right ear, and snapped a limb off above me. Fuck _now_ their shooting back.

_**Tanks Voice**_

My hand had just touched the cold metal handle of the bronco. I could have sworn I heard something. My men, maybe they were restless. This is a tense situation after all. No, I reminded myself. I know better than that.

He's out there somewhere watching, waiting, and biding his time before he strikes. I lift up slowly on the door handle easing the door open. I'm ready to breathe a sigh of relief when the interior lights do not pop on.

It's then I spot the dot. Shit he has a bead on Morelli. I yell out as I snatch past the imaging camera and grabbed the butt of my Falcon 12.7 mm. I hauled the fully loaded 32 pound weapon up to my shoulder snatching at the bolt to lob a round in.

Fuck.. I was to fucking late. The first report echoed around the site. I yelled to Hector to get Morelli's ass down, and now. Chances were good he was the target, or me. Damn.

Hector ducked charging towards him. Bobby shouldered his rifle ready to create cover fire. I heard men in the woods; they were on things looking for our sniper.

I heard a shout the report and watched as Morelli's ass impacted with the ground. Shit he was hit. And I don't know how badly.

Hector slid over him shoving a sig-sauer in his hand. At least Hector had a flak jacket on. Not that it would do the boy any good if the sniper laid fire again. I figure he / they had come armed to the teeth.

I watched as Hector tugged him backwards. One hand on Morelli's shirt collar the other firmly gripping his AK47. There was another burst, and a binging. Damn the bullet was bouncing. Shit that's never a good thing.

Bobby and Hal returned fire. I held my position, waiting finally another shot came whizzing by. I took aim. I heard the truck when it ignited, but I ignored it. I looked through my scope, prayed this wasn't a wild shot and curled my finger around the trigger touching it off.


	5. Chapter 5

OOC: Boy has it been a while since I decided to do anything. I know my stuffs always bad, but afraid this is more that normal. Bare with me maybe I will find the style again. Well not that I ever had one but anyway…. Little bouncing here…

* * *

A few deep yellow flames licked higher into the sky devouring more oxygen as the fire sought purchase before the Rangemen totally extinguished what was left of the bronco. Tank stood hands on hips, looking on at the smothering remains of the vehicle. Inventory would have to be done, and replacements pulled from storage. No harrowing feat, but it was just a little disheartening seeing disasters like this used to actually be fun. When it involved Stephanie Plum, and she of course came out of it unharmed.

Kicking gravel at a charred rim, he wondered what to do with Morelli once Lester had him sort of patched back together. He couldn't let him go back to Stephanie's apartment it couldn't be fortified, so where to put him. Rangeman base was totally out of the question. In the end leaving Morelli at his own place was the safest place for him.

* * *

Morelli's Place

* * *

Morelli rubbed at his red rimmed eyes. He had to try to focus; no he had to wake up. All this was just a really bad dream. Stephanie was at home, and Ranger he was slinking around somewhere. Wasn't he? They weren't dead this was all just a really twisted dream, right.

Taking a deep breath he smelt smoke. He jerked to full attention. The twinge in his shoulder was now a full blown throbbing ache.

Morelli made another swipe at his eyes. "Who burnt what?"

Hal looked at Bobby who in turn shrugged. "Dude, you already forgot the blazing bronco."

Morelli sat bolt up right. "Ok who the fuck did, Ranger piss off now? And don't hand me some line of bullshit."

Morelli was up and pacing now his tirade building. "Steph's gone because of him. Or whoever the hell he took down, now tell me."

His face was mere inches from Bobby's. They stood toe to toe.

Hal stood at attention just ready to pull them apart at a moments notice. Tank didn't appear to be anywhere in sight. Seconds slowed until they seemed to only pass like hours. The three men held their ground against the other.

Morelli's front door banged open, where Mooch ambled in followed by Tank.

"You." Morelli lost interest in Bobby but immediately targeted Tank. "Who was Ranger after? Did he get him? Was this the jerk Steph, was talking about the day she died?"

Tank ignored Morelli's rapid fire questions. He let his eyes float around the place. Observing, taking mental notes, making silent decisions on where to fortify.

"Well?" Morelli growled.

Tank flicked his attention to Morelli. "It was a bounty. If that's what you want to know."

"Who's?"

"It's not important."

"It's important to me."

Tank glared at Morelli. He didn't need to know. If he really wanted to know he would have already hit the bonds office with his questions, before now.

"Well?" Morelli snapped.

Tank's phone vibrated against his belt. He took it off flipping it open without even looking at the readout. Placing it against his ear he turned his back on Morelli as he listened to the caller but he never spoke. He let out a sigh, as he closed the phone.

"Well?" Morelli snapped his patience completely gone.

"You'll have guards around the clock and your cousins the company." Tank shot back over his shoulder as his form filled the doorway and then vanished through it.

* * *

Hidden underground are the grottos, recesses, subterranean cemeteries, and catacombs. Cold, musty final resting places for the long since dead.

For some living a dark forgotten place where they hid, stacked with aged brittle murky brown bones of ancenstors long dead their names as forgotten as their bones.

For the crimal mind a prefect base of operations. Where out of sight out of mind is exactly what they strive for.

For the victim… A hands on experience of where and how they will spend their last remaining days of life. No one ever wants to face the reality of mortality. But to be confronted in the grave by the angel of death, is a dish best left unsereved at all.

Dark ugly voices coil, snaking their way down the stone passageways. Losing octave they become only whispers flowing into the bone niches and oozing back out. A shadow of dim gasping flame floats along the wall, followed by an attachment of a shadow that could only be described as an animalistic form. The whispers forming into voices bounced around back and forth. Two, there were two voices. Gravel slide, the voices cursed something, a rat perhaps or something more sinister that lurked in the cool darkness.

She struggled against the bonds, looking for purchase. If she could just get her hands loose, she could rub the fog from her eyes. Then she would be able to think more clearly and act completely rational. She'd get out of here, out of this cool, damp, musty place. Ah, she almost had it; she had hung her hands on something a piece of metal. It felt like rusty old shackles. Now she'd saw the ropes in two. She'd be free. Her fingers brushed something it felt like old bony fingers; someone had come to her aid. She felt like her mouth was packed with large wads of cotton but she tried to speak to her rescuer anyway.

Her words slurs of drawn out dribble oozed down the corners of her mouth lost in frothy spittle. "Un doo ee."

Someone grabbed her from behind gathering a handful of her hair. This person snapped her head back. Hot breath washed over her face. A chilly shaking blade slid across her throat. "Say a word I spill your blood. Try- n e'scape I'll spill blood." She sat perfectly rigid. No idea what to do next. She didn't have anyway of fighting back, and even if she did she had nothing to fight back with.

"Morris, that's no way to treat our guest." The second voice spoke.

"Bitchs' try-n to escape, Mike."

"I told you Morris not to use my name in front of her." The second voice sounded angered.

"Sorry, it won't happen again Falco."

"Yes, well see it doesn't. Now see to our guest. We don't want her demise coming about before due time now do we, Morris? Go get the groceries; I am sure she's famished."

The cloudy form of what she could only assume was Morris slunk away, something bobbing in front of him lighting his way. Thank goodness. He scared the hell out of her. He was like a spineless snake. He slithered everywhere. Up her legs and back down again, he said he was looking for weapons. Whatever!

Someone moved about her the sound of their weight churning across the slightly roughen surface of what she could only guess was a concrete pad. She must be trapped deep with in someone's basement or cellar. All the smells mingled together creating something nearly unbearable. There was the smell of mold, mildew and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

The mold she thought was probably old fabric. What was it anyway with people why did they always store their fabric and old clothes in a freaking basement? Don't they know nine chances out of ten moisture leaks in and well something ends up moldy and mildewed. The mildew was a musty smelling stuff that was slightly slimly felt like a half squashed mushroom. Ughk. But the other smell, what was it?

"I trust you'll forgive our rough treatment of you. It seems my friend is more of a klutzy Igor type than even I suspected. But then again the old adage comes to mind you get what you pay for. Now miss let me help you away from Mr. Hoffa here. He's a very old man and well we wouldn't want him to be falling apart on you."

His deep throated chuckle completely unnerves me. What does he mean? Fall apart on me? Oh please don't tell me I am trapped down here with a dirty old man. There really isn't much more I take.


End file.
